


Hey, Kid

by Virginia_Tradescant



Category: Reylo - Fandom, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arrest, Drunk Driving, Established Relationship, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Han Solo is the real hero of Star Wars, I love you. I know., Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Married Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Middle Aged Characters with Grown Children, Professor Ben Solo, Rated E because Ben Solo's inner monologue is a 25 yo sailor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virginia_Tradescant/pseuds/Virginia_Tradescant
Summary: “Ani is in jail!”“You keep saying that like it’s going to change.”“Go get him!”He rolls back over and looks at her.“No.”…When his son is arrested, Ben Solo is forced to decide whether to repeat his own father’s mistakes or chart a new path.A heartwarming (I promise) story about fathers, sons, mistakes, and maybe-not-mistakes.Edit: (It's my first fic! Apologies for formatting weirdness while I figure everything out.)
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 26
Kudos: 129





	Hey, Kid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AA_Unit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AA_Unit/gifts).



Ben groans and rolls over. He had _literally_ just fallen asleep, and he hates that word. Nothing is ever “literal”--not a goddamn thing, no matter how often his wife says it-- but in this case, it’s _accurate_. Squinting, he flips his watch up to his face as it shines bright. 

12:43AM

 _Why the hell would she set an alarm for this time? What stupid new workout routine is this?_ They’d only been home from the department party for _two_ hours--what the fuck is she thinking?

“Rey,” he groans, as he rolls over to his side, turning away from the trilling tone and burying his face in his pillow. “ _Reyyyy_. Shut it off.”

He hears her slapping the side table for her phone. A thud sounds, followed by a soft curse as she knocks something off in the dark, and he hopes it’s not a water glass. Through the slits of his eyes he can see the room glow as she finally unlocks her phone and the obnoxious sound blessedly stops. 

“Hello?” she answers groggily.

_Phone call?_

“Fucking hell, Rey, it’s _spam,_ ” he growls, turning a little toward her. _My god, she falls for it every time_. Why can’t she set Do Not Disturb like a normal person? Like an introvert like him?

“Oh my god.” Her voice is gasping, sharply inhaled as she speaks. She taps the phone. Ben opens an eye. 

The bed shifts and creaks as she sits up rapidly. Reaching out, she begins slapping Ben’s shoulder with loud smacks.

“ _Wha—whaaaaat_?” He groans.

Her voice is high-pitched when she speaks again into the phone. Shrieking, even. 

“ _Ani?_ Ani, what’s wrong?” He can hear the panic in her voice. 

Ben frowns and pulls himself up now, groaning as he does. He has a bad feeling about this. 

She’s still slapping him.

“Stop.” He grabs her arm. “What? What’s going on?”

She’s silent as she listens to the phone, but in the dim light of the darkened room he can just barely see her mouth falling open and a furrow growing between her brows. 

“Oh no, baby, _why_?”

Ben purses his lips. A suspicion is growing in his mind as he watches Rey begin rubbing her forehead in concern. 

“Say that again?”

His suspicion is growing into a _certainty._

“ _Jesus_ , Ani. Okay. Okay. Where are you? Which one?”

 _Yep,_ he thinks, pleased with himself for being right. 

_Jail._

Rey is listening intently again, then her face drops. “Ani? Ani?” She pulls the phone back from her ear, frowning and tapping frantically on the screen. Leaning over, she clicks on her light, and Ben squints and growls.

“Yeah, you only get about two minutes,” he says with sardonic satisfaction, as he shuts his eyes tight against the bright light. He shifts and lowers himself back down to his pillow. 

“Ben, Ani’s in jail.” Her voice is strained, and her hazel green eyes are wide. 

“Yeah, I figured that out.” He yawns. 

She smacks him again on the shoulder, horrified. “Our son is in _jail_. Downtown.”

“Yes, you mentioned that.” He rolls over.

“Ben Solo, what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“Going back to sleep.”

“ _Ani is in jail!_ ”

“You keep saying that like it’s going to change.”

“Go get him!”

He rolls back over and looks at her.

“No.”

“What!?” She’s yelling now, her face a contortion of horror and downright _betrayal_. 

“No.” He repeats. Still firm. Trying not to let his instinct to soothe her get the better of him.

“Ben, you of _all_ people—“

“ _Exactly_.”

It’s pure fury on her face now, and he meets her eyes even though it’s getting harder.

“Your dad picked you up every time, Benjamin Solo. _Every_ time.”

He sighs. “Yes, and maybe if he had let me sweat it out the first time there wouldn’t have been _other_ times.”

She blows out a loud huff through her mouth. “That’s stupid.”

“ _Is_ it?” He gives her a pointed look.

“Yes.” Her answer is immediate. “You would have been an idiot no matter what. Because you’re _you_.” She pokes him hard in the chest. “But at least you knew your dad would _be there._ I’m going to go get him.”

“No. No one is going to get him.” He holds his hand up in a stop motion. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious, Rey. He needs this. He doesn’t need the easy way out. He gets treated like everyone else.” Ben was always adamant about this. No special treatment for their son. She knows this. She’s been on board with this. Why is this time suddenly different?

“Jesus, no one is asking you to call a judge! It’s just picking him up so he doesn’t have to spend the night there.”

“He _needs_ to spend the night there.”

She’s fuming now. He has to de-escalate, or he has no chance of getting laid again in the next week.

Maybe month. 

“Come on.” He rubs her thigh over the comforter. “Do you trust me?” The ask sounds a little like whining, but he’s tired and pissed.

She frowns. 

“Trust me on this,” Ben pleads. “He is safe. He’s fine. Let me guess—public intox and/or underage drinking?”

She gives him a sour look but nods. 

“Then he needs to sober up anyway. He’ll still be there in the morning. Maybe with a new perspective.”

“Ben--”

“Trust me, please. Let me make this call.” His voice is stronger now. Firmer. He _knows_ what he’s talking about here, why won’t she just trust him? 

Her face is stern, and she balls her fists. “Fine.”

She throws the covers off and stands up. She storms, _naked_ , over to the dresser. He groans. So much for de-escalation. He’s never getting laid again.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” she says as she begins dressing in pajamas. “Downstairs.”

“Do _not_ go get him.” 

She rounds on him and points, red and black checked pajama shirt still wadded up in a tight fist. “I’m not going to forgive you for this, I hope you know.”

_Yeah, that’s crystal clear._

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, sweetheart, he’s fine. Poe could even be there.”

“Don’t you _‘sweetheart’_ me!” _Oh no, he’s fucked._ “And Poe isn’t his _father_!”

She pulls the shirt roughly over her head. “Your dad would have done it. Hell, Han _did_ do it. Three goddamn times.”

Goddamn? Oh, he’s _really_ fucked. 

“Rey…”

But she’s already gone, slamming the door behind her. He huffs angrily and leans over to turn her light back off. 

What right does she have to be pissed? Ben’s tried to bring up this possibility for years, but she never wanted to hear it. Never wanted to talk about it because _no way, nope, not her precious baby Ani, he would never._

_Mothers_. 

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Ben _does_. _He’s_ the one who has been arrested. _He’s_ the one that knows what is best here. She needs to trust him. 

He growls into his pillow.

…

The white light of the screen is blinding in the darkness. Just a quick text. Poe’s probably not even on duty tonight. But it will make Rey happy, then she’ll finally come back to bed, and he can finally fall back to sleep. 

He scrolls to D. _D-a...D-a…_

D’Acy

DA’s office

Dad

Poe Dameron

_Dad._

He should delete the number. He’d certainly come close in the past few months. By now the number belonged to someone else--he’d deactivated it himself two years ago when the estate was finally settled. 

What would happen if he called it now? What would he hear on the other side? 

His finger hovers over the three letters.

 _Hey, kid_. 

He frowns and lowers the phone. This is a mistake. A _big_ mistake. Repeating his dad’s mistakes.

But he lifts himself up anyway, groaning at his lower back twinging. He rubs it for a moment before finally standing from the bed that should still have his wife in it. That he should still be sleeping in. With a sour face, he only takes two steps before his foot lands on something prickly, and he jerks it up angrily, losing his footing a little as he does. 

“Dammit, Rey!”

He reaches down to pull the red sequin dress off the floor. Really, it wasn’t fair to be mad at her—he was the one that had dropped it there. He was the one that couldn’t be bothered to fold it or lay it neatly on the plush chair in the corner when he peeled it off her two hours ago. Another perk of being empty-nesters. _Finally_ , he could watch his wife move around a party, legs still amazing for forty-five, then take her home when she’d had one too many glasses of Prosecco and enjoy her with the bedroom door wide open. No more checking to make sure their son is asleep. No more tiptoeing upstairs. No more stopping right before he comes in her because she freezes and says, “ _Did you hear that_?” 

He dresses in jeans and a sweater, and goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He steps on Rey’s bra on the way, and for a brief moment he thinks he’ll leave that little shit at the station where he belongs and go downstairs and tell his wife to get back in bed, _naked._

_Hey, kid._

He sighs. The white light of the bathroom is blinding, reflecting off the pristine white counter and white tile of the huge glass shower that had been a _godsend_ once the renovation was finished. First time in his damn life he’d been able to comfortably wash his own body, but now in all the light he has to blink a few moments before he can get a good look at himself. 

And that’s when he decides they need some softer light bulbs in here. Some of those warm white ones. Because he can see himself _way_ too clearly.

The bags under his eyes are just fatigue. It’s two fucking AM. But the white streaks at his temples are _not_ just fatigue. The lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth _aren’t_ fatigue. The white and gray in his stubble isn’t fatigue. 

It’s fucking fifty-five. 

But he’d _just_ met her. She’d only started last week. Just a temp job fresh out of college while she tried to land her first book deal. Just her first day in a bustling office, but it felt like the end of his fucking life. Because how else could someone so beautiful, so big-hearted exist unless he was already dead and dreaming her. She’d landed there like a canary in a landfill. The only bright and beautiful thing amongst a wasteland of corruption. 

And somehow she’d looked at him. Looked at him and _smiled_. 

And they’d only gotten married a few days ago. And yesterday Ani had been born, nearly taking her from him along the way. But that’s what can happen, the doctor had said, when you try to birth an eleven pound baby. He’d never been so broken, so scared, and then...so relieved. But it was only a few hours ago that he’d eased her onto the couch and handed her a heavy, squirming bundle that had somehow left her body as he watched her with wonder. 

So how the hell is he standing in his bathroom looking at an old man?

_Hey, kid._

He brushes his teeth aggressively, and he _knows_ Dr. Connix is going to give him shit for wearing out his gums, but his whole damn body is falling apart anyway. 

And dammit he’s still pissed.

From the bottom stair he can see that the light is on in Rey’s studio, but he doesn’t stop as he tiptoes past. He’s as silent as he can be, but two hundred and ten pounds doesn’t travel quietly, especially on these creaky old floors. It was something he’d loved when they bought it, right after he was tenured and Rey’s fourth book had come out. A restored century home. What she’d always wanted. She’d cried in the hallway after they signed. 

_Hey, kid._

He makes it to the back door and shrugs on his black overcoat. Silently, he turns the handle. 

…

“Well, hi there, Professor Solo.”

Poe Dameron is leaning against the dispatch desk and smirking, deep crows feet shining. His gray hair is messier than a cop’s ought to be, but Poe always played loose. He straightens up and offers his hand to Ben.

“Or is it _Dean_ Solo now?” He asks as Ben shakes his hand, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I always preferred ‘Professor,’” Ben answers sheepishly. “ _Chief_ Dameron.”

Poe smiles wide. “We’ve got some precious cargo for you.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but Poe just continues to grin as he gives his head a slight shake.

“I gotta say, I expected Rey, not _you_.”

Ben purses his lips. “It almost was.”

Poe laughs. “He’s _not_ going to like this. There’s a reason they always call mom.”

“Even better. What do I need to do?” Ben sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Darlene will take care of you.” Poe points behind the plexiglass. An old woman looks up.

“Solo. Anakin,” Ben says to her through the circle of holes drilled in the window. She nods and begins tapping at her computer. Poe stifles a laugh.

“Sorry. I’m enjoying this too much.” 

“Well I’m not.” Ben glares. 

“I know, I know, but with all the shit you used to get into? It’s karmic.” Poe is laughing, and Ben is growing more annoyed with his friend. Maybe, if he’s willing to admit it, he’s a little embarrassed.

“The shit _we_ used to get into,” he reminds Poe.

“Most of it was just you.”

Darlene slides out a clipboard. “Fill out the top half. Bottom is for us.”

While Ben finishes the paperwork and pays bail, Poe disappears into the back and returns with two tiny styrofoam cups, offering one to Ben. The coffee may be the worst he’s had in a year, or it might be his mood that makes it bitter and acrid on his tongue. They settle into two of the stiff plastic green chairs bolted to the floor.

“Is he at least sober by now?” Ben asks. 

Poe checks his watch and nods. “Been a few hours, plus the tank usually dries them out real fast.”

“Please tell me you weren’t the one that had to bring him in.”

Poe smiles. “No. It was one of the new guys. Damn near freaked when he found out who Ani was.”

Ben groans. “He did not pull a _‘Do you know who my dad is?’_ did he? Because you’ll be booking me tonight for murder.”

A laugh. “No. He didn’t. I think it was more _‘Please don’t mention my dad. And definitely don’t call him.'_ He panicked when he saw me at the desk _._ ” Poe chuckles. “You should have seen his face.”

“What happened?”

Poe leans back in the chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “Oh, you know, the usual. Noise complaint, house party. Some of them get away, and some of them don’t. Hard to hide when you’re drunk and six foot two and won’t let go of your bass. Something about getting his ass handed to him if he lost it.” Poe looks at him from the corner of his eye.

Ben shakes his head with a groan. “Goddammit, I really liked that guitar.” _That little shit really has it coming._

The corner of Poe’s mouth lifts. “Soka will get it back.”

Ben looks at him with narrow eyes.

“What?” Poe asks. “ _Come on_ , if Ani was there, Soka was there. She either got out in time or my guys are still afraid to bring her in. I’ve told them plenty of times…”

Ben is still watching him with a sour look.

Poe bristles. “Is that face because of my daughter?” He pokes Ben in the shoulder.

“You think there’s something going on there?” Ben asks.

Poe laughs loudly. “Who do you think was crawling out of my basement window at 5AM last year? Been a relief having the girls moved out.”

“Oh god,” Ben cringes, “he was _not_.”

“He most certainly _was_. Why do you think he stuck around rather than going out of state with Tico?”

“That’s not the reason. The tuition waiver from my job—“

“Yeah, sure, no Solo ever changed his life plans around a girl.” 

“Shut up.” Ben pouts sourly. 

They’re quiet for a moment as Ben forces down more coffee. He’s feeling a little more alert now. And a little more salty.

“I can’t believe he was this stupid.”

“I can! With all the times Han showed up to get you? He’s _your_ kid.”

“Exactly. He should know better.”

Poe blows out a loud exasperated breath. “Sure.”

He adjusts the sleeves of his black uniform. “Look, I’m not going to give you parenting advice.” He smacks his lips a moment, and turns his face to Ben, looking at him fully. “ _Actually_ , I am, because you look like you need it.”

Poe sighs. “I’ve seen more of these than I want to count.” He rubs his chin. “You remember when they were really little, and everyone tells you to read the books? Gotta get _all_ the books?”

Ben nods. “Ugh. Yes.” How could he not remember the stack he barely made it through? The only thing he _really_ remembers is that damn expecting book where Rey forced him to read the emergency home birth chapter ‘just in case.’ _Good god, he still has nightmares._ They would have both died on his incompetent watch.

Poe shakes his head a little. “Was even worse for us because no one ever thinks gay men could possibly have a parental instinct.” He chuckles a little sadly. “We were gifted double copies of all the damn books. One for each of the twins, I guess. Or each idiot father.”

Poe sighs and continues. “But the books all say the _same thing_. There’s always the chapter about when they get hurt. What to do. What not to do.” He lifts each hand comparing the imaginary texts in his palm. “And every book says that the _way_ you react matters _more_ than how they got hurt in the first place.” Poe rubs his mouth. He’s quiet for a moment, and Ben thinks maybe he’s finished, or maybe he’s forgotten his point. But he looks at Ben again, old-man eyes meeting his own, the years and mileage carved on both their faces.

“He may be nineteen...but it’s still true, Ben.”

The big steel door finally clicks, and they both quickly look up. Ben frowns.

The shock in his son’s eyes is almost worth being awake at 3AM. Anakin had dodged Ben’s ears but still got his black hair, which he was keeping in a sort of samurai man-bun most days. Tonight, however, his hair is down, messy, and nearly hiding his green eyes lined with some kind of punk black eyeliner. But the curtain of hair is parted with just enough clearance for Ben to catch the way his eyes change when they land on _Ben’s_ and _not_ Rey’s face. Ben tries not to smirk.

_Hey, kid._

“Oh _shit_ ,” Anakin breathes out, eyes glued to his father. He’s gripping his leather jacket and is frozen in the middle of tucking his phone into the back pocket of his skinny jeans. 

“ _‘Oh shit_ ’ is right,” Ben says, standing and scowling at his son. Ben marches toward him—they’re nearly eye to eye, another thing Anakin had gotten from Ben. 

“Is, uh, is Mom in the car?”

“Nope. It’s just you and me, kid."

Poe snorts, shaking his head with a smile as he claps Ben on the shoulder. 

“It was good seeing you, Ben. Tell Rey I said hi.”

Ben nods. “You and Finn are still coming for Christmas Eve, right? Rey ordered catering this year, thank god, so I don’t have to cook for thirty people.”

Poe nods. “Yeah, definitely.” He shoots a quick sidelong glance at Anakin and adds, “We’ll bring Ahsoka and Cara, too.”

Ben’s gripping his son’s arm—skinny, but then again Ben didn’t bulk up until his mid twenties—when he feels it slightly tense. A faint pink stain colors the side of Ani’s jaw.

 _Little shit_.

“Let’s go, Joey Ramone,” Ben says roughly, pulling on Ani. “Thanks, Poe.”

Poe laughs. “You’re welcome at the station anytime!” He can barely get the sentence out, he’s chuckling so much. 

Ben glowers and turns. 

The thick flakes are falling slowly outside, and a fine dusting of snow already covers Ben’s car. Ani pulls his jacket on over his Joy Division t-shirt. 

Ben frowns. “Is that all you have?” 

Ani just shrugs in response.

“It’s twenty-two degrees out here.”

Ani shrugs again.

Ben rolls his eyes and unlocks the car. 

…

“My dorm is that way.”

It’s the first time he’s spoken in fifteen minutes. Ben had given up after the first rounds of _Jesus Christ what were you thinking do you know how upset your mother is you’re lucky this is all they booked you for do you have any idea what comes next_ weren’t successful in eliciting an audible response.

“I know,” Ben answers tersely.

“I want to go home.”

“You will. I’m gonna make a stop first.”

Ani sighs loudly and leans back in his seat. 

The snow is falling harder now and small drifts are already filling the crevices of the letters in the big stone sign outside the building.

_Coruscant University School of Law_

Ben smiles a little.

_“Stand there. Don’t block the words.”_

_“Rey, don’t make me do this. I already did this for the PR office.”_

_“That was for the alums. This one is for me. Smile, Ben.”_

He pulls into his spot.

Reserved 24/7 

for Dean 

School of Law

He unbuckles, but Ani doesn’t move. 

“You’re coming with me.” He gives Ani a stern look. 

“ _Gahhhhhhh_ ,” he whines but unbuckles. 

His footsteps are loud in the echoing atrium, and the motion lights begin clicking on as they walk closer to Ben’s office. He has to admit how grateful he is to be on the ground floor now—his poor knees couldn’t keep doing the three floor climb, but he’d be damned if he started using the elevator at fifty-five.

Ani is silent the whole way, trailing about six feet behind him. Ben can hardly hear him sometimes, and he’s tempted to turn and make sure he’s still there, but he takes a purposeful stride instead. It’s turning into some kind of power struggle at this point.

His office is cold, and he thinks about turning up the heat then decides against it. They won’t be here long.

In the dark, he crosses the short distance to his desk, his fingers finding the switch on his lamp and clicking it on. He’s been under enough fluorescence for one night. The golden glow expands in a warm radius around the big maple desk, but his son stands pointedly outside it, hands shoved deep in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe.

Ben shuffles through the filing drawer in his desk. When his hand lands on the folder he wants, he pauses for a moment. 

What is he even _doing_ ? What is he trying to accomplish? Is he trying to scare him? It’s not like any of this is news. They’d had a couple of the _if I ever catch you_ conversations in high school. There was that time he’d caught him sneaking beers from the garage. And the joint under his bed. 

He _knew_ this day would come. So why was he so unprepared?

Without thinking further, Ben just sighs and pulls out the file, opening it and flopping it down on the desk before sinking into the comfort of his big leather chair.

Ani frowns at the case paperwork and paper-clipped mugshots inside the folder. He can’t see it well by the door so he’s forced to take a step closer. _Good_ , Ben thinks. 

Ani stares at it with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. It’s a few long moments, and Ben leans back into the chair, waiting for a response. The silence is easy for him—he had done this enough years in the classroom, bringing the occasional L1 to tears. 

“Is this…?” Ani finally says, and it’s a croaky sound.

“Yep.”

He takes another step. _Better_ , Ben thinks.

Ani’s eyes rove over the documents. His fingers come from his pockets and skate over the old papers, sliding them ever so slightly to see them better all while very obviously trying not to appear _too_ interested. Ben is watching him, not even sure what he’s waiting to see.

Ani’s face scrunches suddenly, and Ben sees too much of his wife then, and his heart clenches.

“Wait, is this _Grandad’s_ name?”

Ben nods.

“I always thought Bub would have—“

“Ha!” Ben’s laugh rings in the quiet office. “Not a chance in _hell_. She would have let me rot to prove a point. It was always Grandad that came.”

Ani is shaking his head, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“It wasn’t easy being their kid,” Ben adds quietly. He’s still looking intently at Ani, but his son won’t meet his eyes. He’s almost glad, because he’s not sure if he can handle seeing Rey’s eyes looking back at him right now.

Ani bites his lip, then softly speaks again. “I didn’t know there were, uh,” —he cringes— “so many times.”

“Really?” Ben cocks his head in surprise. “I haven’t kept it a secret. And three is not _that_ many.” He’s feeling strangely defensive.

“Yeah, but, uh, seeing it is different. This one.” Ani points to the one half-hidden under the other two. “You’re older.” He finally looks up at Ben, then quickly back down, as if regretting the eye contact.

Ben frowns. “Yeah, _that one._ ” He blows out a hard breath. _That one._ The one he doesn’t think about. “Almost lost your mom over that one. She’s never been more angry.”

“What? Really?” Ani looks at Ben again. 

“Yeah. I was a big idiot.” Ben sighs. “She had given me an ultimatum. Job or her.” He feels cold suddenly, as if all of it, everything he has, is in his hands again, his grasp on happiness just slipping.

Ani frowns and folds his arms. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“It was.” Ben answers snappishly, defensive of her. “She was right. She’s always right. The firm I was at...I’d really sold my soul.” He feels heavy and dark. It’s been years though, he reminds himself. 

“I didn’t want to admit it. She...called me out.” Ben gives a weak smile. “Like she _always_ does. I said things to her, things I had no right to be forgiven for...” He sighs and frowns, and he looks away from his son, from his wife’s eyes. “Anyway, I got drunk, got stupid, and got in the car—”

“ _Dad_ ...” Ani looks at Ben another time, face shocked and sad, seeing his father differently. Apparently he’d missed _that_ detail over the years. Ben thinks maybe this is good. 

Maybe this wasn’t a mistake.

“Yep.” He tries to be casual, however it feels anything but. “Darkest night of my life. Was nearly disbarred for it. Deserved it too.”

“How did you get out of it?” Ani’s still looking at him, and Ben feels a tendril of something growing, delicate and precious.

“A shit ton of groveling, rehab, and community service.” He huffs a little. “And the indignity of having your mother drive me everywhere for a year while my license was suspended.”

“So she didn’t leave?”

He smiles. “No.”

Ani stares down frowning at the picture of Ben. 

“Why do you have these in your office?”

“To remind me.”

“That you were an idiot?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s part of it.” 

He lets out a long held breath as he looks at the photos of himself. “Yeah,” Ben adds, “they remind me about how close I came to losing it all. To never having your mom. To never having you.”

“But honestly,” he continues with a sigh, running his hand through his hair and looking at Ani, even though he’s not sure he can because suddenly his throat is tight and thick. 

“I keep them because they remind me of my dad. Of every time he told me it wasn’t too late. Even _that_ time. And…” He swallows. 

“And I miss him.” 

The room is quiet, and the air feels heavy. Ani’s head is still down as he’s staring at the photo. Ben can’t be sure he hears a sniff, but when he sees his shoulders shudder, he knows. He stands slowly from his chair and walks around his desk. Reaching out, he pulls his son into his arms, overcoming his weak resistance. Tucked in close to his chest, he can feel the ragged breathing of a first sob against his shoulder.

“ _Dad…_ ”

“I know.”

...

_“No.”_

_A white hot panic courses through him, and in the sound of one syllable, he’s broken a sweat._

_“Why not?”_

_“You know why.” She turns away, already bringing her hands to her face. Her eyes are wet, and suddenly he’s angry. Why the hell is_ she _the one crying_

_He snaps the box shut and stands up. It had started so well. “Tell me.”_

_“I have, Ben, but you just aren’t listening. I won’t do this while you’re still working at the firm.”_

_“Are we still on this?” He’s raising his voice now, and he doesn’t want to. He wants to stay calm, but the panic is setting in, gripping and squeezing him like vines. This was not how this night was supposed to go._

_“Yes, we’re still on this.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Why?” She’s raising her voice now, too. “Why? Because as long as you’re there I only get a shell of Ben Solo.”_

_“If this is about the hours—“_

_“It’s not. It’s the work. What it’s costing you. It is not worth it.” She’s staring at him hard._

_“Worth what? All this?” He sweeps his hand around the house. He points at the small blue box in his hand. “Because that’s what the work got me.” He shoves the box back in his pocket. Fuck, he could have just flushed thirty grand down the toilet instead._

_“I don’t give a shit about all this.” Her voice is strained, and silent tears have trickled down her cheek. “I give a shit about you. It’s not worth your conscience.”_

_He presses his lips together. She steps toward him, pointing._

_“That last case, the voter suppression case—“_

_“That’s not what it was.” He’s instantly defensive._

_“It_ was _, and you know it.”_

_“It’s not that simple.”_

_“It’s_ democracy _, Ben_. _It’s civil rights. It_ is _that simple.” She pulls at her hair and rounds on him. “How did it make you feel? Standing there, saying those things in court?”_

_Her words have their intended effect, but he can’t let it show. Can’t let her see that it haunted him. That it was the reason he’d been waking in the middle of the night, tangled in the sheets as she slept next to him. Then again, maybe she hadn’t been asleep after all._

_“Don’t be an idealist,” he snaps defensively. “This is just the way things are. You’re holding onto a fantasy.”_

_“When your mother was a senator—“_

_“Do not bring up my parents!” He barks it at her, and she takes a step back. Her eyes narrow._

_He tries to recover, desperate and flailing like that time he slipped off the dock of his grandparent’s boathouse when he was a kid._

_“I’m sorry.” He comes closer to her, but she’s very still. He takes her limp hand, and places it on his cheek. She doesn’t cup it. Doesn’t caress it. Doesn’t move. He searches her green eyes._

_“Sweetheart, you’re my soulmate. I love you. There will never be anyone else for me.” It’s his recycled speech—it didn’t work the first time when he was on one knee— why would it work now?_

_He swallows hard. “But you don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”_

_She sighs, and her chest heaves a little. She pulls her hand away. She speaks quietly, and he wishes she would scream instead._

_“Neither do you.” He can see the water pooling in her lower lids. “If I’m your soulmate, but you’ve sold your soul, what’s left for me to marry, Ben?”_

_It pierces him, and the pain is so intense it’s blinding, like the whiteout of a blizzard. He should have known. She writes and paints children’s books, for god’s sake—of course her words would cut him. Of course his heart would bleed out in front of her. He lashes out. It’s the only thing he knows how to do when he’s hurt._

_“You’re just a fucking children’s illustrator. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_And it’s the_ least _true thing said all night._

_As soon as he says it he can see what he’s done. He knows it deep in the soul she said was gone. Her lips quivers, but she was always the stronger one._

_It’s only seconds, and he’s alone. The framed watercolor she’d painted of his dog is rattling on the wall by the time he finally turns to find the front door shut tight._

_He stalks to the fridge and pops the champagne. At least he has whiskey when that runs out._

_…_

_It’s only three miles to her apartment. He can do it. He has to._

_He needs her._

…

_His head is pounding, and he glances out the tiny narrow window. He’s glad for the clouds. He can’t handle sunshine right now._

_“You’re all set,” the man says, slamming his hand on the button. The big steel door buzzes and opens, and he stumbles out._

_The lobby is empty. No one is waiting on him._ He _didn’t come. They must have just released him early to get the extra room. Ben grips his phone. He can call a cab outside. Or her. No, not her. She’ll give him hell if she even answers. He deserves it. But he’s afraid to hear her voice. To hear the pain and know he was the cause. Again._

_He doesn’t deserve her forgiveness. He never has._

_He opens the door and stands under the canopy. He’s looking at his phone when he hears a familiar honk. The gray clunker is there, in the corner, engine running._

_It’s hard to swallow, when relief and regret are at war in your throat._

_Ben slumps into the seat and shuts the car door behind him. It’s quiet in the car. And warm, thankfully warm. Finally, a low voice in the silence._

_“Hey, kid.”_

_“I’m going to lose her.” Ben’s voice cracks as he speaks._

_“I hope not.”_

_His father places a warm hand on his knee. The rain is beating a hard rhythm on the windshield._

_“What do I do?"_

_“You know what to do.”_

_“I don’t. Tell me what to do.”_

_“Do whatever it takes.”_

_“I’ve fucked up. It’s too late.”_

_“It’s never too late.”_

…

Ani grimaces at the pink and orange cup in his hand, eyeing with disdain the twenty ounce mocha frap with whipped cream.

“How does she drink this stuff?” he asks.

“Kid, I’ve spent twenty-three years trying to figure out why she likes what she likes. Just give up.”

Ben passes the box from the drive thru window and tosses it on Ani’s lap.

“She _can’t_ need a dozen.”

“She needs six and I need six after a night like this.”

“What does that leave for me?”

Ben glowers at him. “I can take you back.”

Ani shakes his head. “Nope. Nope. Don’t need a donut, no sir.”

When they’re back on the road, Ben sighs.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re going to take the drink and donuts to your mom. You are going to grovel like you’ve never groveled in your life. You are going to tolerate every fret and question and scold from that woman. Do I make myself clear?”

Ani nods vigorously.

“Then I’m going to have a goddamn nap. When I wake up sometime around three hours from now, I’ll call my buddy Cass about getting counsel lined up for you.”

“Oh,” Ani says, “I thought _you’d…_ ”

Ben laughs so loud and hard that his eyes are wet. “Kid, do you know who I am?” He feels a selfish pride for a moment. “My retainer is exorbitant. You work part time at Guitar Warehouse. I’ll help you find someone, then you’re on your own. Maybe I’ll help you pay for it. _Maybe_."

Ani slumps back, pouting.

Ben pats his knee. “You need to do this on your own. You _can_ do this on your own.”

Ani nods gently. His phone vibrates, and he picks it up quickly. His face does a contortion of emotions before it settles on something like chagrin.

“Um, it’s Ahsoka Dameron.”

“Oh?” Ben asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, um, she, uh, recovered my- _your_ guitar.”

“Great. She can bring it by _my_ house this afternoon.” Ben’s quiet for a moment, but can’t help himself. “So, is that—“

“She’s just singing for us, that’s all. Since Tico moved to New York, we needed a new singer, and Soka was around. You know she’s a poet, too? Writes her own stuff. Just what we needed, I mean—“ He’s rushing it out so fast Ben can barely keep up. 

“Alright, alright,” he says smiling. “That’s all I needed to know.” It really was—he can see his son’s blush even in the passing streetlight. 

By the time they are walking out of the garage, Rey is already on the porch in her red and black checked pajamas. Her long graying chestnut hair is in a braid slung over her shoulder, and her feet are bare and pink in the thin layer of snow on the porch. She has a furious scowl on her face, lines around her mouth deep. Ani’s footfalls on the icy driveway slow for a moment before he picks his pace back up. He’s clutching the box and cup in a death grip.

“Anakin Han Solo, I swear to fucking god!” She roars from the porch.

 _Children’s author, Rey Solo, everybody!_ Ben hears in his head with a smirk. 

Ani cringes.

“That better have whipped cream!” She shouts, pointing. 

“Rey, it’s four thirty,” Ben hisses, shushing her. 

She glares but says nothing as her son climbs the porch steps like gallows. Ani passes her the cup and is favored with an ever so slight eyebrow raise of approval. He leans down and kisses her on the forehead, but her eyes are still narrow.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, kid.”

She looks him over and pokes in him a few places then sighs. “Go inside.” He ducks quickly in the door.

She turns her stare to Ben.

“Forgive me?” he asks.

She presses her lips together, but Ben can see her fighting a smile.

“Maybe,” she answers, showing more teeth than she should if angry. 

“I love you,” he says.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first try--be kind. Love to AA_Unit for giving me the guts to actually do this and being my proofreader.


End file.
